


under your touch, my soul, it mends

by verus_caelum



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Devil form, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Lightbringer, Vulnerability, established deckerstar, fears, feels and imagery, past trauma, post-s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verus_caelum/pseuds/verus_caelum
Summary: "Can you show me again?"Five simple words is all it takes for him to come crashing down. Falling, falling, falling, so much like before without the landing in Hell.He does as she asks, for he can never deny her anything she desires.His eyes screw shut as his body stiffens beside her, bracing for her gasp of fear, the shuffling of blankets as she leaves, her retreating footsteps as she finally realizes to whom she has given her heart. When she realizes the monster she has allowed into her life, for although she has seen this face before... never this close, never this real.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 22
Kudos: 114





	under your touch, my soul, it mends

**Author's Note:**

> So, this turned out way beyond what I was expecting – some late night inspiration turned a few paragraphs into several pages and here we are. It kinda just kept growing as I went and I may have gotten a bit carried away on some parts, but I really hope you enjoy :)

"Can you show me again?"

Five simple words is all it takes for him to come crashing down. Falling, falling, falling, so much like before without the landing in Hell. He finally has what he desires, though he should've known that wouldn't have lasted for long, right? He's always known that he's unworthy of Chloe, a soul so pure and bright and truly good - something he could never hope to be himself. And this is when he would lose it all. He's been so careful to not talk of Hell, to not bring up anything Devilish to remind them of their mistakes so long ago. With every evasion, his soul grew a little heavier, knowing he was on borrowed time and the _tick tick tick_ driving him mad ‘til its inevitable end. Everything had been going well, daresay nearly perfect - Chloe was with him and loved him... he could not possibly ask for anything more. Yet, he knew this day would come. When she would ask of his time in Hell or to show his other form and he could no longer hide behind a curtain of contentment and a mask of normality. She would see him for who he truly is now – there’s no more hiding, no more escaping, no more running from the truth. He is a monster and well, there never was a happy ending written for the Devil. 

She looks up to him, curled into his side with eyes full of curiosity and resolve, a compassion like no other shining in their depths that shatters him and builds him up all over again. He desperately wishes to see himself reflected in her gaze, to see himself as she sees him – though he is not foolish enough to believe it could ever last, her love and affection must be merely misplaced (because who truly could love the Devil, after all?). His eyes wander across her features frantically, soaking up every detail of her face like a man to water in the desert. He takes in her beauty, the love swirling in her eyes, the warmth of her smile – knowing it very well may be the last time he is ever able to admire her as such. He commits the details to memory, ingraining them in his mind and etching them in his soul to forever carry with him… to comfort him when he undoubtably returns to his former throne, alone and empty as if his very being was carved out, because he knows he would not survive in the eternal darkness after losing the light she brought to his life. It’s selfish - he knows this, but he cannot help himself… he never could around her. He knows he’s a monster, he knows she’ll reject him and leave once she realizes his true self, yet he can’t help but soak up every ounce of affection she is willing to give, every touch, every smile, every glance his way however unworthy he may be.

He eventually does as she asks, for he can never deny her anything she desires. His Detective, who has already done so much for him, who has decided to be here with him even after everything - her goodness so overwhelming and undeserving, yet nearly flooding into his own being by its nearness. He looses his concentration as he calls forth his other form, this other skin calling to him, beckoning to be brought to the surface. The red blossoms from his chest, spreading across his entire body like a poison coursing through his veins. The once smooth skin fades away as its rougher and coarser counterpart emerges, the former succumbing under its growing control. Whispers seem to grow in his mind like ill-intentioned prayers, spreading their tendrils that invade his consciousness, reminding him of the evils and depravity associated with this form.

His eyes screw shut as his body stiffens beside her, bracing for her gasp of fear, the shuffling of blankets as she leaves, her retreating footsteps as she finally realizes to whom she has given her heart. When she realizes the monster she has allowed into her life, for although she has seen this face before... never this close, never this real. He's been lucky thus far that she has somehow seen past his face, what he truly is and everything he represents... once she finally opens her eyes, she'll leave and try to remove all traces of him from her life. But he can't blame her... no, it's an inevitability. She'll leave... they all do. All he can hope for is one last glimpse of her light, one last look at the radiance of her very soul - the woman who, against all odds, has made the Devil want to be better, _become_ better. 

Though, he knows even that is too much. 

It's been this way for all eternity and will be for an eternity more. He wants and he wants, but never shall he have his desires fulfilled. It's simply not meant to be, not written in the stars he himself hung in the sky. No, the Devil may draw out desires from others, but never does he have his desires returned back to him, never able to have that hope blossom within his chest to burn brighter of a want fulfilled as it pours into his damaged soul. And so, he dare not open his eyes, unable to face the inescapable truth he has been running from his entire existence nor the certain fear he would see in her eyes that typically shine so bright with joy and compassion, corrupted by a being such as him.

He waits and waits, mind racing in the infinite possibilities of her reaction, nearly all ending in certain rejection; he squashes down the glimmer of hope that burns within his chest at the possibility of her-- _no, no she couldn't._ The silence grows, the absence of sounds confirming her retreat becoming palpable as that flame grows brighter... _could she?_

A soft touch against his cheek draws him into shock, the flame instantaneously flaring into a fire as hope and disbelief crash over him. He's left breathless as her touch reaches past his face, caressing his soul so broken and mangled yet coming together under her hands, starting to heal after eons and eons of deterioration. Her hand glides across his cheek as if not permanently scarred and ruined, her palm cupping his jaw unwaveringly; it's enough to tether him to reality as he becomes increasingly aware of his own trembling body, his being desperately reaching out and craving affection. He sucks in a breath as his eyes flutter open, catching in his chest at the sight of _her_ before him. Of _Chloe,_ so beautifully radiant and good down to her very core - eyes not full of fear nor disgust nor hatred, instead beaming with compassion and trust and _love._ For _him._ He's the Devil, not a man but a monster, a being feared and hated by all of humanity, and yet she loves _him._ Her gaze reaches into him and grasps onto his soul, willing and pleading to understand all that she feels for him...

…And he does. The realization washes over him, lighting his very being ablaze with warmth, smoothing over the cracks in his soul and the doubts in his mind - she truly loves him as who he is, all of him and nothing less.

A tear escapes him, his eyes now brimming with them unshed as it travels over the ridges of his cheek. He tries to hold it back - the _Devil_ doesn't show weakness nor vulnerability - but he is not the Devil to her. He is simply himself and _he_ certainly would for her, willing to bare his vulnerability completely for her to soothe under her touch. It's a beauty incomparable to anything he’s previously witnessed how a woman glowing with such compassion and benevolence could mend a soul damaged as his.

“Oh, Lucifer,” she says, her voice soothing the trembling in his limbs.

Her fingertips graze across his ravaged face and down to his bare chest, each touch like electricity, sending shockwaves of a love and tenderness deeper than any he had known.

“You’re beautiful,” she says, her voice quieting the whispers in his mind.

Memories of her kind words from all their time together flood his mind, leaving no room for doubts, for worries, for fears - each settling deep within him and flaring with a brilliant light.

“I love you, _all_ of you,” she says, her voice breaking down the walls he’s built around himself.

Crumbling down and down they come, leaving him defenseless in her arms – open and exposed yet never feeling more protected and _safe._ He lets her in, lets her see him for all he truly is and hopes she sees something of which she is worthy... a glimmer of the man who feels so undeserving yet wants and wants and _wants_ to become worthy of her, to be the man she sees every time she looks at him each morning and each night and all the time in between.

And suddenly, he’s weightless – not falling, no… but floating, as if the entire universe had dropped from beneath him… though instead of that rushing, that plummeting of his stomach, he feels suspended. Untethered in the nothingness yet reaching out for her, grasping onto her like she’s his anchor and nothing exists beyond her. 

And he knows it deep within him… that yes, oh yes he might just be falling – but it’s one he will gladly welcome, knowing she will be there to catch him.

A warmth reaches his soul not unlike the sun dancing across his skin on a summer day, his mind overwhelmed by their shared joy, left fuzzy like that period between resting and waking as the dawn encroaches on the night’s grasp.

Gentle hands pull him out of his reverie and into her welcoming arms as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, his unsteady form instantly finding comfort in hers. His eyes drift closed as a breath escapes him, the tension draining away like a retreating tide as the air passes his lips.

…

She watches the Devil – the man – in her arms, looking lost and smaller than he had before, wonder and disbelief seemingly crashing over him in waves. He’s been through so much in his life beyond which she can even fathom… How much suffering did he experience? How much pain? How much rejection? … Was such a simple touch, such a common regard, really that shocking to him?

Her heart aches for him, for the affection he’s been denied, for the love he’s never received, for everything he’s missed in his life where he was instead cast aside to an eternally lonely Hell. She rubs her hand across his arms, across his back, feeling the way he soaks up the comfort, his invulnerable exterior fading under her loving touch; she vows to give him this as often as she can – this reminder that she loves him and cares for him, regardless of his flaws, regardless of his scars… her heart swells with love for him and all that he is.

She traces the unfamiliar patterns along his back, her fingers getting lost in the scars and crevices of this form that's still unknown to her. She traces as if to remember every curve, every indent - committing this skin to memory because it is _him_ and she _loves_ him completely. One day she hopes this form will be as familiar to her as his human one, to know every inch of his body and soul; for now, she takes her time in brushing her hands over his trembling form, so unused to affection yet crumbling under her touch - the tension washing away with each stroke, him instinctively leaning closer into her as she learns him... accepts him... loves him.

She knows what he associates with this form – the guilt, the pain, the hatred… but she doesn’t see that and perhaps one day, he’ll be able to see himself the same way. To see the man who loves so wholeheartedly and passionately, who is loyal and compassionate, who puts the wellbeing of those he loves before his own – the man who looks at her with such wonder and love and has _sacrificed_ himself for her (too many times now).

It was a risk asking this of him – there had been some unspoken rule to not mention Hell or demons or anything related to his Devil form since he’s returned… and any time she does ask, he brushes it off, falls back on humor while his mask so easily slides back into place. She tries to understand how it must have been for him with all that time in Hell, still remembers the times after she found out and caused so much pain for both of them… so she _knows,_ she knows why he’s so hesitant and dodges every inquiry no matter how small – but still she only wishes that he would be more open with her. To give her the chance to show him how much she meant every word back then, and still does, that she was _never_ afraid of him, never doubted _who_ he was but rather the new world he introduced, that she loves him and she _had_ loved him for a while, and what may have scared her most of all was that the man she was falling in love with was actually an immortal celestial being more powerful than she could ever imagine – and even more so that this revelation didn’t do a single thing to change those feelings…

Her feelings have only multiplied and grown uncontrollably since his return, since they finally could be together and show each other the love they had been holding back all these years – she so clearly remembers the burning in her eyes and the pounding of her chest as she saw him for the first time again, knowing without a doubt that she loved him and he loved her, regardless of anything that’s happened or anything that they have (or haven’t) said. She wants nothing more than to heal the pain he’s endured, to show her unwavering trust and _faith_ in him and – though faith in particular must be unimaginably painful and traumatic for him – that he could have _faith_ in her. She internally pleads with him to be willing to let her in, expose his vulnerability, show her what he’s most ashamed of so she can shower him with love, hoping and hoping and _hoping_ that one day he will come to love this side of himself as much as she loves him.

And yet he does so nonetheless, prompted only by her desire to _love_ all of him – and this in of itself is beautiful… that he’s willing to show her this other side, this side that he hides from everyone else, that he only views as a punishment… that he sees himself so much a monster he’s externalized this pain and anger and guilt onto his outward appearance. But she doesn’t want it to mean that for him, because truly it means so much more. The image of him standing over hundreds of demons, saving her, saving all of humanity really, is forever ingrained in her mind – and yes, he was the Devil but in this, he used his form completely selflessly, impossible to miss the worry and love and protectiveness in his eyes as her gaze met his. 

She allows her eyes to fall shut as she continues her calming caresses of his damaged skin, wishing her touches alone were enough to heal the pain and guilt tied to this form. As her soft fingers graze across his rough back, she tries to communicate all the affection and love she feels for him, exploring the crevices and valleys of his skin with soothing gestures of reassurance. Her hands move of their own accord, drifting to his shoulders and neck, still gentle but applying more pressure, hoping to alleviate his tension through her massage. He releases another blissful sigh, burying himself further into her body, his shoulders sagging in relief and the tension ebbing away with each pass of her hand.

The skin beneath her fingertips begins to soften as his breaths become easier, a gentle pulse through his chest. First touch, then sight as she urges her eyes to open from their peaceful rest. She watches as he shifts seemingly unbeknownst to himself, his deep red, scarred skin transforming to his familiar form. Intently she admires the sight before her - less a struggle for power as it had been before, now a simple passing of control. His smooth skin spreads like a ripple in a pond, gently displacing its counterpart in each arc, traveling across his form with ease, like loosening muscles that long hadn't been used. It shifts naturally and with practiced grace, his rough skin fading away until all that's left is the form - no more beautiful than the other, to her - with which she had become so acquainted. 

Her hand glides from its resting point against his upper shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers affectionately carding through his unruly hair, reveling in the way he lets loose a hum of appreciation, further leaning into her palm. She looks down at his eagerness with a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips, watching as his eyelashes flutter in short succession as he's overwhelmed by a peace washing through him. Deep, slow breaths linger between them as he inhales and exhales, following along to a gentle rhythm of their own making. 

He looks up to her then, his warm familiar depths brimming with admiration and wonder. A glow gradually creeps upon his irises, exuding a soft yet brilliant light, the very stars he crafted burning in his gaze, swirling together in a dance between light and oblivion. Lost in his eyes, she catches glimpses of a sapience she doesn't often see, typically lost in his jovial expressions, though no less fitting, reminding her of the ancient being before her. His eyes capture her in his gaze, bursting with innumerable emotions she couldn’t even begin to name as she moves her hand to delicately cup his cheek.

His warmth seeps through her palm, hotter to the touch than a typical human yet not burning, merely more intense. She feels a smile spreading across her own face as she watches his features brighten, possessing a peace and genuine joy that so rarely lights up his face, as he turns in her grasp and lays gentle kisses along her palm. Her hand drifts upward through the side of his tousled hair and settles against the back of his head - even with scant inches between them, she moves closer to him, pulling him deeper into her embrace with the need to remove any distance between them. She listens to their easy breathing, nearly synchronized, and feels the steady thrum of his heart on her chest as the warmth between them grows, radiating from deep within him and emanating a rising glow. The warmth fills her being, bringing a lightness to her chest and her mind, and she can somehow tell this is beyond his natural heat, that truly the Lightbringer is drawing upon light from the divine reserves within him. It pours in, growing and growing, easing her tension and her worries, reaching out to her very soul. He tightens his grip and pulls her closer, and she wonders what it must have been like - to create the stars; to shape matter and space into existence, blinding light flooding between creator and creation as he pours his soul into the tiny form, growing gradually and brilliantly under its creator's care.

He lays there beside her, radiating the very goodness of his soul that he thought so buried, long lost to the desolation of Hell… but she saw it. She always has. Who he truly is – behind the walls, behind the mask, she tears it down and sees what’s left behind… his vulnerabilities bared for her, his passion, his love, his fears. She stares into the depths of his eyes and watches the fear drift away, because she accepts him, truly knows who he is and all that he is and she is still here. She does not turn away. She does not leave. She does not show anything other than love and trust. He is not the Devil to her – this she hopes he knows – because when she looks at him, regardless of whatever skin he may be wearing, she finds _him_ underneath it all. His eyes are the windows to all that he tries to hide behind: the pain and hurt long buried deep within him, the fear of rejection and loss, the oh so small sliver of hope to be accepted for who he is - forever seeing himself as the monster humanity claims him as. Well, no more.

And well, perhaps he is starting to see what she sees, to believe everything she has told him, and she hopes he does - because it is a truth so deep to her, so whole, that it fixes itself in place within her. 

He tilts his head to look into her eyes, seeing himself reflected back in her gaze, her blue eyes so full of pure love and compassion – and a soft laugh of disbelief escapes his lips, seeing the Lightbringer he thought no longer more than a name, seeing himself so truly open and vulnerable as a lightness invades him, a peace settling into all the corners of his being and swelling in strength. He closes his eyes and lets it fill him, snuggling further into her welcoming embrace as he does nothing to resist the genuine smile spreading across his features. They lay there together, entangled in each other and existing in their own world, knowing only the other and nothing else.

The night softly sets in, a gradual darkening of the sky and quieting of the air, the two surrendering under its pull... Their breaths become deeper, slower; the thrum of their chests more rhythmic, more peaceful; their eyes don’t attempt to fight sleep's call.

…

The dawn soon finds its place amongst the fading evening, announcing a new day as the sunlight flows in through the open windows, scattering across the bedroom. The shadows shrink back as the sun rises higher, unable to contend against the pure light flooding in through no control of its own. Rays dance across his face, lighting up his features even further, bringing a lightness and a peace he had long since encountered. Perhaps hadn’t ever.

The morning drifts in and gently urges him out of his rest, the light drawn towards its creator. He opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is _her,_ so radiant and beautiful, only more so by the sunlight hugging her face. The corners of his mouth upturn, a brilliant smile spreading across his face without his control. His chest squeezes as he takes her in, so overcome with joy and love as a tender feeling makes its way up through him, threatening to burst out of him. He watches as the sunlight catches in the highlights of her hair, the way the furrow between her brows eases as she sleeps peacefully, her chest rising and falling so softly, creating a gentle rhythm he finds himself joining. _Chloe_ – the woman who loves him, who has chosen him… and will choose him, again and again. He gently eases his arm around her, pulling her closer to him, smiling softly at her mumbles of approval and the way she squirms further into his chest. This, he decides, is bliss. Pure and genuine. 

He relishes in the surreality of it all, that she loves him, and even after seeing his less than favorable side… she still chooses to give her heart over to him. He had shown that side of himself and still she had _seen_ him, seen who he truly is, and still loves him – the thought drifts around in his mind, pushing aside the doubts of her affections, the fears of losing her after finally finding her, and firmly sinking itself into its depths. Knowing every smile, every touch, every kiss was the first of many brought an indescribable happiness to his chest – there’s truly no greater feeling.

He pulls back and watches as her eyes blink open, slowly at first, trying to clear herself of sleep’s hold, then more measured, warmth filling her eyes with celerity. A beautiful smile breaks across her face at the sight of him, of his nearness, and he knows without even considering otherwise that a dazzling smile lights up his own. He takes in a breath, the air filling his lungs, nearly bursting with the fullness surrounding his being, then breathless just as quickly from her pure beauty and radiance. Warmth seeps into his own skin, greater than any his light had ever brought, urging open his eyes he hadn’t even realized had again fallen closed. His gaze focuses on the hand she had placed on his cheek, grounding him and allowing everything else to fade away, and wanders to her brilliant blue eyes, latching onto the depth of emotions dancing within.

As he stares into her fathomless eyes brimming with sincerity, feels each touch laced with a tenderness reserved for him, loses himself in every kiss so full of love and desire – he cannot deny the reality of it – of _them._

There’s no need for hiding, for escaping, for running…

No, she is here beside him, choosing to stay.

And so is he.


End file.
